The birthday
by damaged item
Summary: It's your birthday, and your friends have left you waiting alone in a bar. You're hating this day, until a guy named Tom Hiddleston buys you a drink. This is my first story ever, and english is not my first language, so feedback and advice will be very welcome.
1. The birthday Chapter 1

The bar was about to close. Being a labour day, they close earlier than the weekends. You had been there for a couple of hours waiting for your friends to come, but obviously they forgot about you. It's not usual from them, and you check your phone once more just in case they give signs of life. Luckily you always have a book with you, and you were so absorbed by the story that you didn't even realize what time it was. You are not in the mood of being at your empty apartment right now.

The bartender, John, an old friend, brings you another drink. It seems you've had more beers than you're used to, because you're feeling a little tipsy, and by the way he's grinning at you, he knows. You've never got drunk; you're so self-conscious, that you cannot even think about the things you could do if you ever got drunk. Surely you'd find the brightest ways of embarrassing yourself, so you never get even near that point.

But today is your birthday, and your friends forgot about you. You joke with John about the best way of killing them, and about drinking something stronger tonight, and you go back to your book while you finish this last beer.

And then, you notice a new drink there. There is a big glass of whiskey on your table. Surprised, you take it and go to the bar stool, to enquire about that, and John points to the only remaining client in the bar tonight. You have seen his face before, but not in this bar, he's not one of the usual guys here. Anyway, you try to figure out where have you seen him before (your brain is not working properly tonight), but you cannot remember. Damn! You should know. You don't meet guys like him every day. In fact, you've never met anyone like him before. These are the kind of guys that don't bother looking even once at women like you, and this one is inviting you to a drink. He's really tall, slim, dark haired with a pair of gorgeous blue eyes, nice stubble and a beautiful face. He's wearing a white shirt and a pair of jeans that fit perfectly on his endless legs. His hands are big, with long and delicate fingers, and you can't stop watching the way he's touching his glass. You find yourself thinking about how it would feel being that glass.

Still shocked by the invitation, you raise your glass and thank him nodding slightly from the other side of the bar. You take a sip, and find it hard to keep your dignity while your throat is burning like hell and the whiskey makes you cough. _Why did you have to do it? You don't drink alcohol, what did you expect?_ You hear both of them chuckling, and you think "all right, that's it. If I had any chance of talking with that man, I've just ruined it". You throw a killing look at John, and he goes into the kitchen to escape from your rage. He'll pay for this, but not tonight. Right now you feel like crap, and you only want to leave. You go to the bathroom, still coughing and feeling half dizzy and you hold on to the sink to steady yourself. A fast look at the mirror confirms what you already knew. You just look horrible. Your clothes can't hide your fat body, your face is shining like a fucking mirror and your make up is almost gone. Great. Well, at least your hair is still straight and you can hide half your face behind it. Now you only need enough dignity to leave the bar in one piece and you'll be safe as soon as you arrive home.

So, you go to your table to pick your purse and the books, wave John goodbye, and head directly to the door, with your hair covering your face. But when you get closer to that gorgeous man (you're still sure you've seen him before, but cannot recall where or when), he gives you the most shining smile you've ever seen and your trembling legs decide that it's a good time to make you stumble _(great, another glorious moment for the list)._ He must be less drunk than you, because before you hit the floor he's by your side, holding you by the waist and helping you to get straight.

-"Hey, careful, darling!"

-"Oh, God, thank you! I... I… don't know what's happened. I think I've had one to many, so I better go home now. Thanks, again". _Perfect, now you're letting him know you're half drunk. Improving your skills, aren't you?_

You try to reach the door but you're too conscious of that warm hand still touching your back. It's been an eternity since the last time you let someone touch you, even like that, and you had almost forgot how good it feels. You don't know if the shiver down your spine comes from his touch, or from the way he's looking at you. You unconsciously flush, and he retires his hand when he feels you stiffening.

-"Sorry, darling, are you ok? Maybe you should sit for a while."

- "No, thanks, I…I'm fine, really. I just need some fresh air and I don't live far from here. I... I'll be ok soon, thanks again". Sure you need some air. Your face must be bright red right now, his scent is taking your breath away, and he's so beautiful it hurts (where have I seen him, again?).

-"OK, but, please, tell me I'm not the reason you're leaving. I know I shouldn't have laughed before. That was very rude and unkind of me, and I'm truly sorry".

He said it looking right into your eyes and you forgot to breathe for a while. All right, time to go. Now. For just a second he seems truly concerned, but you won't trust someone you've just met, and the last thing you need is giving this guy the chance to mock at you. One more mark in your already low self-esteem would finish you. No way are you going to let that happen.

-"No, really, don't worry about that. I shouldn't have tried it. I'm not used to strong drinks, and I guess I wanted to play cool. Not that it's my strong point, obviously, so I better go before I keep on embarrassing myself".

-"Then, let's start again. May I invite you to something lighter? What about a coke? Maybe a coffee?" Another smile and a grin. You cannot tell if he's laughing at you and that's driving you crazy. Damn!

While you think about the best way of refusing his offer, you bend to pick up your purse, but he's already holding your things… and your gaze. As he handles you the books, his finger slightly touch yours, and you feel something tickling inside you. It was only a fraction of a second, but you'd say you heard him gasp. Nah, sure you've imagined it, but you can't avoid staring at him and before you notice, you've agreed to that drink.

-"A coke will be fine, thanks".

_What? Are you serious? This is not how one leaves a place. You're making a mess of this, and this won't have a happy ending. Not for you. You should know better than that._

So, there you are, sharing a coke and an awkward silence with a hunk. That's the best you can do. Fine. Things cannot go weirder. Or so you thought, until, while playing with your purse, your notebook falls open to the floor. He takes it and with a bright smile, he starts reading out loud:

"She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies."

Oh, gosh, that was... amazing. He has only read the first line, and he followed the poem by memory. And that voice... That was the sexiest thing you've ever witnessed. You are still trying to recover from the thrill, when you hear him speaking again, though you do not process what he just said.

-"Sorry, what... what were you saying?"

-"Oh, ehehehe, I was just apologizing for reading your notebook, but I saw one of my favourite poems and I couldn't help it. I so do love poetry. Do you like it too?" He is genuinely excited about it. Well, maybe you have something to talk about after all.

You spend some time talking about your favourite poems and writers until you realise it's time for John to close the bar. So, the both of you go outside after saying goodnight, and start walking while you keep talking about Byron, Christina Rossetti, Shakespeare, Marlowe, Jane Austen... The dizziness is gone, the conversation seems endless, and you think that you haven't been so at ease with a guy for years. Then, you realise you have arrived home.

-"Well, this is where I live. Thanks for the drink, and the walk, and the chat. I've… had an unexpected great time tonight". That's all. It was fun while it lasted. You turn towards the door while you search for the keys, and then you feel his hand gently touching your arm, and turning you to face him. He leans towards you; his face is getting really close to yours. You're starting to panic. You need your personal space to feel safe, and he's invading it. Your heart is in a race against itself, you're holding your breath, and you're completely sure he's noticing how you stiffen again. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Then he approached your ear, whispered "I've had a great time, too, thank you", and kissed your cheek. Again that smile. Sure he's thinking about you stumbling in the bar, or coughing with the whiskey, or dropping things, or God knows what other embarrassing things you've done or said. You've put up a great show, surely. But, at least it's over. You flush like a light bulb, smile shyly, let go a barely audible "goodbye" and open the door to the hallway. Hopefully this time your shaking legs will hold you. The door closes behind you, and while you try to recover your breath you hear him knocking on the glass. You turn back and see him asking you to open the door again. He smiles nervously while he enters the hallway and comes closer to you again.

-"I... Sorry, I just wanted to tell you again that I've really enjoyed the chat, and... gosh, I'm so flustered I don't even know what I'm doing". He was looking right into your eyes; he seemed nervous, surprised. It was almost like... no, no way. _Don't you even dare thinking about it. This guy doesn't like you. He can't like you. He's gorgeous; he's young, cultured, funny, nice, sexy as fuck... God, is he even real? And what about you? You're a fat, shy, stupid, self-conscious old woman. Put your feet on the ground and end this nonsense right now before someone (basically you) gets hurt._

But he keeps on talking. "I... I don't know how to express it. There are so many things I'd like to say right now, but I feel somehow deprived of words. I'm not used to it. Sorry if I seem weird". He pauses for air; he brings his hand to his hair and ruffles it. "Look, I... I like you, it felt amazing to hold you, to touch you, and right now I'm dying for kissing you, but I don't want you to think that I'm taking advantage of you, so, I.. I was wondering... would you like to meet me again tomorrow? Please, say yes, will you?" He gives you a broad smile with an anxious look. You can feel him looking inside your eyes, trying to find the answer there.

"Me? Do you want to see ME again? Why? I mean, of course I'd like to meet you again. Any woman would. But..."

His smile fades, and a look of concern appears in those beautiful blue eyes. "But…? Oh, I see. The whiskey thing. Look, I feel terrible about that. You can't imagine how truly sorry I am. I never meant to offend you. But don't worry, I understand, and I deserve it. I won't disturb you anymore." He takes your right hand, and raises it to his mouth while keeping his gaze fixed in your eyes. He kisses your hand smoothly, reluctant to release it afterwards, sliding his fingers under yours to extend the subtle touch for as long as possible with a deep sigh. "It's been a pleasure to meet you..." He pauses there, asking for your name with his eyes.

-"Mary. My name is Mary", you say, remembering to breathe again. "But look, really, it has nothing to do with the whiskey. It's just..." How could you explain it? _Well, try the truth; He seems smart, and I'm sure he'll understand it_.

-"What's it, darling?"

-"It's just... Look, I think you should find another kind of woman. A young, pretty, funny and smart one. You're gorgeous, I'm sure you only have to blink at a girl and she'll be at your feet. Now, look at me. This is what I am. What you'll get; a damaged item with an ugly wrapping. The one nobody buys. You shouldn't waste your time with a broken one like me. I… really appreciate it, but I'm sure tomorrow you'll think about it better and you'll realise I'm right. And you won't show up, and I'll be a little bit more broken, so it's better if…"

He brings one of his long fingers to your mouth and shushes you with a whisper. His face getting slowly nearer, his eyes closed, brushing his cheek on your cheek, breathing heavier now, holding your face with his hand, like fearing that you would withdraw. God, that feels amazing. Then, he takes the lock of hair that covers your face and puts it behind your ear, holds your chin smoothly, raises your face and kisses you. A sweet, gentle kiss, barely brushing his lips over yours. You open them for him and he takes your upper lip between his. You feel a shiver running through your body, your legs are trembling, your heart is about to explode. You put your right hand over his chest, feeling his heart beating faster every second, and raise the left one to his nape, playing with the curls behind his ear. He breathes a deep moan and deepens the kiss, urgent, passionate, but still delicate. He places one hand on your side, and the other on the small of your back to pull you closer to him. It only makes the heat growing more inside you. You never thought a kiss could feel like this. This can't be real, it only happens in the movies, and definitely not to people like you.

He breaks the kiss off and brings his forehead forward, resting it lightly on yours. He's trying to catch his breath, his eyes are still closed, and his hands linger on your body.

-"Wow, love, that was… just..."

-"A...ha..." You are still trying to breathe, unable to open your eyes for fear of waking up from the dream. You hadn't felt this good for ages, and right now, you just want the world to stop and stay like this forever.

Suddenly, something clicks inside your brain. Movies. That's it. He's the guy from Thor, the bad guy. What was his name? Tom… whatever. Ok. Panic mode activated. You stiffen like a post again. It's a reaction you can't avoid. You don't know where to put your hands, or where to look. You're flushing and you just want to leave right now.

-"What happens, darling? Have I done something wrong? Are you ok?"

-"Yes…. No… I … I don't know. Look, today is my birthday, my friends forgot about me, I've been given the best kiss of my life and you are… you are… I knew I had seen you before. You are that guy from Thor, and I can't believe what's just happened. I don't even know if you are faking, having fun at my expense, because people like you doesn't even look at people like me, and… and… fuck, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore" There, you said it. Not even a breath. That must be your record. All you've ever feared since "Mr. you know who". You should feel relieved, but then… why do you still feel worse than before?

Oh, no. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no. What have you done? You've never let what you have inside come out like this before, least of all with someone you barely know. You have to do something. Now.

"Forgive me, please. I've had a shit of a day and here am I, throwing my frustration against the only good thing that's happened to me for ages. I told you I was not worth your time. It's better if I go home. I… thank you, and I'm sorry." You are feeling like an idiot right now, and you don't want him to see you cry, so you search for the keys of the inside door, waiting for him to leave.

He hasn't said a word yet, and you hear him stirring in his spot. Leaving is the least thing he could do after this show, you couldn't blame him, but somehow it hurts. You open the door despite the tears that are starting to fill your eyes, and head to the stairs that lead you home. You don't look back. You can't look back. _You knew this would not end up well, but you wanted to play, anyway. Well, that's your reward. More tears. _

You insert the keys of your apartment's door, but you hear something behind you. You turn your back. There he is, in the stairs, looking at you, uneasy, puzzled, confused. He takes a deep breath and comes towards you, with a decided air, stopping right in front of you.

"Ok, darling, now it's my turn to speak. First of all, yes, I am that guy. My name's Tom. You did not worry about my name in the bar, or while we walked, or even when we kissed before, so I can't understand what makes it different now. A name should not change what we've just felt, unless you did not feel the same, which I'm sure it's not true. Second. Acting is my job, and now I'm not working. I can assure you that in my private life I don't play with people. I cherish honesty, in all aspects of my life, and I don't see the point of wasting my precious time doing something I don't like. And as it's me the one who chooses who I want to spend my free time with, and not you, right now, love, you're going to stop speaking nonsense, and come here while we think about a proper way of celebrating your birthday."

And then he hugs you. Not one of those awkward forced hugs. No. A HUG, in capital letters and neon lights, with his long strong arms embracing you, his face bent to find a place in your neck, every inch of his body touching yours, pressing you against him, as if he wanted to put all your broken pieces together again. It just feels like… home. His heartbeats, his warmth, his scent. It's just perfect.

You raise your head, searching for his face; the need of touching him growing inside you. You draw his forehead with your fingertips, barely touching his skin, just trying to check that he is really here, that he is not a dream. You touch the little scar on his forehead, drive your fingers down through his cheeks, around his blue-green eyes, now closed to concentrate on the feeling. The nose, the profile of his lips, which he opens for you with a sigh and a low moan. He tries to trap your fingertips between his lips, but they are already travelling his cheeks again towards his ears, counting the little freckles in the way, drawing the contour of his jaw, and down his neck to his Adam's apple, until you follow the path to his collarbones, lingering there, while you stop, mesmerized by the sound of his breath, almost like a purr. It is so arousing... and you feel something tickling inside you.

You move your face closer to his. Your nose brushing his nose, your lips fighting the need of kissing his lips, lingering there, panting and teasing each other's mouth. You approach his ear and whisper "Are you real?"

He brings his hands to your back, leans forward and starts kissing you. But this one is different, hungry, savage, full of lust; his tongue deepening into your mouth, groaning, while he drives you towards the wall of the stairs. His mouth moving from your lips to your neck, licking all the way from your collarbones to your ear, inhaling your scent, your skin reddening with the friction of his stubble.

"Do you think this is real enough, love?" He licks and sucks your neck, giving small bites that make you gasp. You are sure you'll have more than one purple mark tomorrow, but right now, you don't even care. He withdraws from your kiss to stare at you. His eyes are dark, he's panting like a wild animal, and he presses his body against yours. You can feel his warmth, his musky smell, and his huge erection pressing against you. "Yes. Oh God, yes". Your hands touch his broad back, sliding them down to his butt, pulling him even more towards you. You are moaning, desperately gasping for breath, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. The fact that some neighbour could appear suddenly in the stairs turns you on.

He raises one of your legs to his hip, to make it easier for him to move. He holds your butt and tries to lift you up. "You can't do it. I'm far too heavy for that". _Be ready. He'll stop when he remembers you are not one of those skinny girls of the movies, leaving you embarrassed and hurt_. But he only says: "Shut up and hold on".

He lifts you to his hips and pins you harder against the wall holding your weight with all his body. You twine your legs tightly around his waist and hold your arms around his neckwhile he starts pushing harder and faster, rubbing his twitching bulge against you. The friction of his cock with the seams of your jeans is driving you crazy. Your panties are soaking wet. You rock your hips to follow his thrusts. His deep breaths and groans are so arousing that you think you could actually come just watching him. He slides his hand under your top and reaches your breasts, taking down your bra to tease your nipple. You cup his face with your hand and kiss his lower lip. Both breathing deeper, and faster, thrusting and rubbing against each other, until his groans and erratic thrusts tell you he is really close. You can feel his cock twitching inside his trousers. You slide your hand under his shirt and scratch his back with your nails while you bite his lower lip. He gives a hard last thrust and a deep groan, while he buries his face in your neck as he comes, moaning your name with the last spasms of his release. It sounds so amazing to hear your name in his mouth that your orgasm hits you hard while he is still recovering his breath. Your body shivers as he helps you slipping down to the floor, still out of breath.

He hugs you again and kisses you, still panting on your mouth. "Oh, fuck. That was glorious, honey! I hadn't come like this since I was a teenager."

"Well, I… I…" You're out of breath, feeling dizzy, overwhelmed by sensations and don't even know what to say. You manage to breath out a few words. "Look, I've never done anything like this before, but... Do you… Do you... want to come in?" You can't even look at him, fearing his rejection, and while you are turning the keys to open the door you mutter inaudibly, almost like a prayer: "Please, say yes. I don't want to be alone tonight".

He grabs your waist from behind while you're opening the door, turns you around and looking directly to your eyes, says: "Only if you want me to. I can't remember the last time I've felt what you are making me feel, but I don't want to force it on you. I don't want to ruin this".

_Ruin This? He's worrying about him, nothing more. There is no "this" for you, so don't be stupid. He's just a horny guy on holidays who didn't find another one to fuck with. _ You try to silence that voice inside you, but it speaks loud, and always finds its way back. You push the voice to one side and try to ignore it.

"Well, why don't you come in, then, and we'll see how it goes?" That's the best you can offer right now, and you hope it is enough for him.

"That sounds perfect, love".


	2. The birthday Chapter 2

You take his hand and help him inside. You close the door, stand on your tiptoes and kiss him, when suddenly the lights turn on and all your fucking friends start yelling "surprise!"

"What the hell...?" How did they get in? Oh, you see. Your sister. She is grinning at you, until she spots him and mouths a voiceless "sorry". Tom's face is priceless, right now, though you don't even want to think about YOUR face. Recovering from the first shock, he gives you a broad smile and says: "It seems they did not forget about you after all. Do you still want me to stay?"

"Please, don't go", you begged him holding tightly his hand. Somehow the party seemed stranger than Tom's presence in your apartment, and you wanted him here, as if he were the last thread that linked you with reality in this precise instant. _You must be losing your mind, Mary, this is utterly surreal._

Luckily, none of your friends seem to recognise him, and they start hugging and kissing you, and wishing you a happy birthday. You go to the kitchen and find that your sister has brought food and your friends brought drinks for everyone. So, you turn the music on, and you introduce Tom to your friends, while you try to understand what the hell happened in the universe tonight.

You go to the living room and offer him a seat in the couch, and you seat on an armchair, right by his side. His legs as spread as he can, occupying half the sofa. You're talking to your friends, laughing, singing out loud and dancing the songs on your playlist, and you see Tom analysing you from the corner of your eye. He's watching every move, every smile, every word, thoughtful, rubbing his stubble and his lips with one of his long fingers. You cannot say what he's thinking about. _You don't really want to know what he's thinking right now, do you." _

He winks at you when he catches you staring at him, and you smile and blush. You let your arm rest over the arm of the sofa, and notice his arm close to yours. They are very close, but not touching. Your arm's soft hairs are standing on ends, craving his skin, trying to reach his arm, not bearing being so close without a touch. His skin fills with goose bumps, and he tangles up his little finger with yours casually, inadvertently, while your skins touch for a fraction of a second. You feel your heart beating faster, and you're barely breathing. Tom stirs in the sofa, but doesn't move his arm while he crosses his legs, uncomfortable with his now noticeable hardness. Suddenly, the conversations around fade away, you're only focused in your arm, in your breath, hoping no one notices you're flushing and trying to keep your moans inside you. Someone calls you, requiring your presence somewhere else, and you feel, more than hear, Tom saying "fuck".

With all the people scattered through the kitchen, the corridor and the living rooms, bringing food and drinks, and chatting with everyone, you find it hard to have some time to be with Tom. You go to the kitchen to bring more food to the people in the living room, when you notice someone holding you from behind. You don't even have to look back to know it's him. Your body tickles to warn you of his presence while he buries his face in your neck, licking your ear, inhaling your scent, and moaning while he says: "God, you smell so good it's driving me crazy". You forget about the food and get lost in the warm feeling. You raise your hand to hold his head in your neck, caressing his curled hair, purring from the deepest of your throat.

"Hey, are the rest of the snacks ready? I'm starving!" Someone enters the kitchen, takes the food trails and disappear with an embarrassed "oops, sorry". You don't even care who he was.

You both laugh at being caught like this. The music changes and the next song is a slow one. Tom offers you his hand and says: "Will you dance with me? I love this song".

Oh, a dance. You love dancing, but you've never known how to slow dance. You feel awkward, never knowing where to put your hands, our how to move. He sees the panic in your face, pulls you close to him and says: "Come here and let me lead you".

He places his right hand on your back, and smoothly takes your hand in his, tangling your fingers together, and bringing your hand close to his chest. He bends his head till it's brushing your cheek, and he starts dancing slowly, barely moving from the spot. You lean slightly forward, and he seizes the chance to pull you closer to him. You just let him take the lead as you relax yourself into the smooth movement. He takes a deep breath and starts teasing your ear lobe with his lips and his tongue, slightly biting and sucking it, moving down to your neck. Oh, gosh, you can't resist the wave of pleasure that fills your body right now, and start moaning in his ear, licking it and smoothly blowing on it, making him groan with pleasure. He reaches your mouth, takes your upper lip between his, biting it, pushing his tongue inside your mouth, deepening the kiss. He teases your mouth, and whispers in a deep low voice: "What are you doing to me? Having you this close makes me so hard that I'm about to send everyone off and fuck you right here."

You feel his cock growing and twitching between your legs. You are both alone in the kitchen, but as you can have more "unexpected visits" from your friends, you stop dancing and take him to the farthest room of the apartment.

"Where are we going?" You bring a finger to his mouth to shut him up. "Shhhhhh. Be quiet and everything will be all right", you give him a mischievous smile and close the door. It's almost dark inside.

You place him against the closet and caress his perfectly tight chest over the white shirt. Your fingers slide through his shoulders, and run them down his strong arms to his hands. You twine your hands with his and raise your head to kiss him, getting lost in his mouth and his tongue. You raise one of his hands and kiss the inside of his wrist, the palm, and brush his long, delicate fingers over your lips, one by one, slowly kissing and licking every fingertip, going back to his delicious mouth, and then, paying its due attentions to his other hand. He's holding his breath, and you muffle his moans with another kiss.

You let his arms fall loose on his sides, and start unbuttoning his shirt, licking and kissing the small portion of skin revealed. He moans, and arches his head back, focusing on the feeling. You do the same with the next button, and the next, too. Slowly, taking your time, your fingers play with his chest hair while you place light kisses over his skin. When you reach the last button, you open the shirt and start licking and biting his nipples, pulling them between your teeth, making him gasp with every bite. You bend down to lick and kiss the line of his abs, until you reach the thin trail of hair that gets lost inside his trousers, and you feel his belly tightening, and his fists clenching by his side. The bulge in his trousers is getting bigger, and you're feeling the need of having it in your hands, in your mouth, inside you...

His hands hold your head right there, and he begs: "Please..."

You get up again to kiss him, but you change your mind and stop when you're near his mouth. He leans forward to reach your lips, but you withdraw a little more, while you bring your hand to his cock, rubbing it through the fabric, feeling it shaking and growing even more under your touch.

"Please… what? Tell me." You lick his lower lip with your tongue, while you stroke his cock again. He's panting, and moaning louder now. "Please!" "Say it, Tom. What do you want me to do?" You rub it again, and you start unfastening his belt. He holds your gaze, lowers his head and whispers in your ear with a faltering voice: "Please, Mary, you're killing me… Suck my cock". You unbutton his jeans, lower the zipper and slide your hand to free his huge cock, realising he's not wearing any underwear. "Hmmm… what do we have here?" You feel his deep groan and a start when you take him in your hand. "Are you ok? Did I…?" "I'm in heaven right now, love, just struggling not to come in my pants again."

You stroke him slowly, up and down, feeling him thrusting his hips to fuck your hand while you're holding it, as he's trying to muffle his moans. You lower again kissing his chest, and his trembling abs, reaching his cock, twitching as you get closer. You lick the precum drawing a circle around, and you blow some air over it. You brush his cock with your hand, while your mouth teases his glans. Hearing him panting, and moaning, is driving you crazy. You lick the whole length of his dick, reach his balls, suck them, and lick your way back again. "I'm so close, please…!"

You take his cock with one hand and slightly bite the head, making him gasp. You kiss it after biting, and place the head inside your mouth. You breathe hot air over it and close your lips around, drawing circles around the base of the head with your tongue. You feel his deep groan, his belly tightening, his cock twitching and his hips thrusting towards your mouth. He's starting to lose control. You suck hard the head of his cock while you press your tongue against it, and start moving your mouth up and down, slowly at first, trying to make your mouth comfortable with his considerable size, and increasing the rhythm as he holds your head with both hands trying to fuck your mouth. You press your lips in every thrust, play with the tip of your tongue on his head until you hear him panting uncontrolled, and you feel his belly clenching. "Come for me, Tom. Give it to me". He gives one last thrust and you feel him coming into your mouth, groaning, feeling his spasms inside you, and you lick it until his cock starts softening in your mouth. You get up to your tiptoes, licking your lips, savouring until his last drop. You approach his ear and whisper: "You are delicious". You offer him your mouth, and he takes it entirely, kissing you deeply, tasting himself in you, while he recovers his breath. "Thank you, love. This has been… Oh, my God, you are amazing".

It's too dark there for him to notice you're flushing. You can't believe what you've just done, and you feel the urgent need of getting out of the room to have some fresh air. He's so intoxicating… it's like you turn into another person when he's near you, and you can't think, just feel. It's scaring you. A lot.

"Stay here for a while if you need to. I'm going to check on those guys out there." You open the door, letting the light of the corridor enter the room. He calls you, still resting on the closet. "Mary?" You turn to him from the door. "Yes, Tom?" Silence. He doesn't move; he doesn't say a word. You lower your head and get out of the room.

You go to the laundry room, open the window and try to fill your lungs with fresh air, but the air can't reach them. Your hands are shaking, and you crave for a cigarette, lamenting now that you gave up smoking four years ago. After some minutes, you start to relax and think about Tom's reaction. Why that silence? What does it mean? Did he want to say something that he repressed? Did you do something wrong? You wonder why you feel like this for someone you've met a few hours ago. You don't want to think about it, because you know what that little bitch inside your head will say, and you don't want to hear it. Not now.

You hear him getting out of the room, he's talking with someone in the corridor and then you hear the door opening and closing. Suddenly something hurts inside you and you know it. He's gone.


	3. The birthday Chapter 3

He's gone.

_"I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you — especially when you are near to me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land, come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly." _

_It's a good moment for remembering your favourite Jane Eyre's quote, isn't it?_ Oh, shut up. Whose side are you, anyway? _"Are you talking to me now? You're crazier than I thought, Mary"._

Someone calls you from the living room, so you don't have time to think about it, and, frankly, it's better if you don't, so you yell "I'm coming!" swallow the tears that threatened to fall, try to put on a smile on your face and go to your friends. It's time for your birthday presents. Not that you care much about them now, but you go anyway. After all, these are your friends, and they are real, aren't they?

You go back to the living room, where someone brought the cake you made with about a hundred candles ready to be lit and blown. You fake being indignant. "Hey! I know I'm older than you all, but I'm not a fossil... yet. Start removing those candles right now, you bastards! You've ruined my beautiful cake with all those holes". And then, while you are laughing, you realise how much you love them, and how lucky you are of being here, right now, with your little family and your fucking friends, even if the cherry of the cake is missing along the way.

Someone handles you a knife, and bring the cake to the kitchen to start slicing it. You make a mental list of the number of slices needed, and feel a sharp pain in your guts when you think "minus one." After slicing the cake, you start handing the plates, and the doorbell rings. Someone yells: "Finally! There's Manu with the ice."

He comes directly to the kitchen to put the ice into the freezer, after filling the ice-tray, and, as he takes a couple of cake slices to bring to the living room, he stops and says: "You know? You have a lot of things to tell me, but I like him." You're busy and don't pay much attention, but you acknowledge he was talking to you and you ask him: "What?" "Tom. He's nice. I like him". And he brought the pieces of cake to the others. You stood there, hurt, paralyzed, with the knife in your hand, muttering to yourself: "yes, me too."

You cut the last slice of cake, and put the rest into the fridge. You take the plate and you hear a voice from the kitchen door: "Is that finally my piece of cake? Or am I punished without dessert?" You froze, and you turn around just to find Tom leaning on the door, making a sad puppy face.

"What are you doing here? I... I don't understand it. I mean, I thought you'd left."

"I needed fresh air and Manu told me he was going to buy more ice, and he wanted me to help him. I thought it would do me good after…, so I went with him. He seems a good guy. I like him, and he cares a good deal about you."

"Oh, I thought..." No, stop it, don't go there. You change the topic immediately. "Well, yes, I know. He's my best friend, and I care about him, too. But tell me he did not do something embarrassing, please…"

"No, he just… Hey, wait a minute. Did you really believe I'd left without even saying goodbye? Right after what's happened? Is that what you think of me? What kind of heartless bastard would do something like that?" He seemed really astonished, and offended.

_Well, you could make a thesis about that topic, couldn't you?_ You flushed with unwanted memories, and you felt a big lump in your throat. You turned your back and held your tummy, suddenly tightening with something like physical pain.

"Oh, no. That cannot be true. I can't believe it. I'm so sorry, darling". He approaches you and hugs you tightly from behind, kissing your head.

"Why? It's not your fault. I told you I was…" He turns you around, and he doesn't let you finish the sentence. Holding your face between his hands, and looking right into your eyes, he says: "Please, believe me. I would never do something like that. I couldn't. I know these may seem just empty words to you, but let me prove it with facts, ok?" You nodded with your head low. "I'm sorry if I've offended you. I just can't avoid that little voice in my head telling me to remember, and not to trust. I couldn't bear it if it happened again. I…"

"No, it's not you the one who should apologize, darling". He pushes aside the hair from your face, brushing your forehead with his fingers and his lips.

"But now, darling, I think you have to blow some candles, before your friends kill me, don't you think?"

You nod, and take the rest of the cake from the fridge. Cut a big slice, and handle it to Tom with a wink. "I think you've earned this". He kisses you and whispers: "thank you, love."

You arrive to the living room and your friends have filled your slice of cake with as many candles as they could. "So, you are really going to make me blow all those candles? Bastards!" They light all of them; you make a wish and blow your lungs out to put them off.

"Ok, who has the champagne? Time for a toast!" You go for the glasses, and your sister offers to help. She's been waiting for this moment. "Ok, speak". "About what?" "Come on, Mary, I know you. This is the first time you've brought someone to a birthday celebration. Who's that guy, and why is he here? I want the whole tale".

"Well, for a start, he wouldn't be here if you had been in the bar where I was waiting for you all. And he's here because I like him, and for some strange reason he seems to like me, too. I'm still deciding if I'll take the risk of knowing him better or not. That's all".

"Well, then. Just do it". She took some glasses and left. "We'll see", you mutter to yourself when she's gone. You take the rest and go to the living room.

Manu is filling the glasses and you start handling them. He's going to speak. "To Mary, the cutest doctor, bookworm, photographer and baker, and my best friend. Many happy returns, hun". You raise your glass and thank him with a smile. You look at Tom, who raises his glass to you and mouths a mute happy birthday and gives you a wink.

They hand you a bag full of presents, and as you start unwrapping, you point the cabinet display to Tom with a grin: "You should check that shelf. You might find some interesting things".

You're thanking your friends for the presents, when you hear Tom gasping, turning towards you, completely excited and asking: "Oh, my God, are these real?" You nod, and smile. "I knew you'd like them". "I can't believe it. A "Coriolanus" from 1796! This is beautiful, and so well preserved! The Sonnets, and Cymbeline. Oh, God, Poe, Byron and Marlowe's works too. Mary, darling, this is paradise!" You cannot help laughing at his true excitement, while your friends don't understand it. They don't share your enthusiasm for old books, so it's nice to have someone who understands you for a change.

_Don't go too fast, baby. _Have_ him? Don't make me laugh._ Oh, come on, give me a break.

"Well, now is my turn. I haven't bought you anything, but I think I can give you something you may like. Take this book and choose a sonnet. I'll recite it for you. What do you think?"

"Really? That'd be amazing! But I don't need the book. My favourites are sonnet 18, 61, 116, 17, and I have mixed feelings about 130, but I'll trust your taste. You choose." You can't believe he's going to do it. You make yourself comfortable in the armchair, taking the shoes off and pulling your legs below you. This is something you want to enjoy.

He bends down in front on you, so that he doesn't miss any of your reactions. He looks at you, whispers a "ready?", and, when you nod, he starts reciting.

_Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd_  
_Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;_  
_My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,_  
_And perspective it is the painter's art._

Oh, the 24th! You let go a gasp, and you blush. It's not only the sonnet, but his voice, his eyes, the way he's looking at you. If you could just believe what he's saying…? _Don't you dare._

_For through the painter must you see his skill, _

_To find where your true image pictured lies;_  
_Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,_  
_That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes._

You are tangling up your fingers, anxiously, and you try to stop them placing your hands on your knees. He steps a little closer to you, and takes your right hand between his, tangling your fingers, keeping his gaze on you, while he continues reciting.

_Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:_  
_Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me_  
_Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun_  
_Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee;_

Your heart skips a beat, and you remember to breathe again. You close your eyes to take delight in his words, the sweet undulations of his voice, the way he lowers the tone, and how he's brushing your hand with his thumbs.

_Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art;_  
_They draw but what they see, know not the heart._

You hear him approaching you, and you feel him by your ear, whispering: "Happy birthday, love." You feel your stomach clenching, and a thrill running through you. You open your eyes to find his face just before yours. "Thank you, Tom. That was beautiful." You lean forward to cup his face and kiss him. He tries to deepen the kiss, but you remind him you're not alone with a chuckle.

Your friends decide that this is a good moment to leave, so they start saying goodbye one by one. Manu is the last to leave. "I'll call you tomorrow, ok? I want every detail. Take care." He gives you a hug, and a kiss in the cheek, and you close the door, relieved that the party is finally over.


	4. The birthday Chapter 4

You lean your back against the door and sigh. "Well…" Tom comes closer. He bends his head and whispers in your ear "Well…" holding your nape and pulling your head slightly backwards, to have full access to your neck. He brushes your forehead with his fingertips, putting the lock of hair out of your face. "Much better. You shouldn't hide this beautiful face, love." You blush, and close your eyes while he caresses your skin lightly, barely touching you, moving his fingers from your forehead to your cheeks, and then going down your neck while he places his lips by your mouth, just standing there, not touching them. You resist the urge to kiss him, and he moves his mouth to your neck, licking it, placing small bites that make you moan, while his hand moves to your breast, cupping it. He moves his left hand from your head to your back, and he gets back to your mouth, kissing you slowly at first, moaning and pushing his tongue between your lips, deepening the kiss until you need to stop to catch some air.

"Alone, finally. I've been waiting for this moment since I crossed that door, but right now, I'm not sure if I want to fuck you against that wall until you can't walk, make love to you until you lose your mind, spend the rest of the night kissing you, or everything at once."

You brush your nose over his, and whisper: "Well, I wouldn't say no to any of those plans, Mr Hiddleston. I have plenty of free time tonight, and maybe, if you've got no other engagement tonight, we could start by finishing that bottle of champagne first. It'd be a crime to let it spoil, don't you think?" You lick his lower lip and give him a light kiss, and he can only say "A-ha…"

"Then, why don't you fill those glasses while I change my clothes and get something more… comfortable?" He slides his hands under your top, and says: "I'd rather help you taking these clothes off now, darling". You sneak away from his hands with a giggle. "Not yet, sir. Champagne. Now."

You go to your room, and you take off all your clothes. While you are looking inside the closet you can't decide what to wear now. You take a t-shirt and a pair of leggings, but they are probably "too comfortable" and not very sexy. You sigh when you realize you have nothing nearly classified as "sexy" in your wardrobe. Not even you. Finally, you choose your favourite red bra and panties, and a loose black cotton dress that will hopefully make him stare at your cleavage, and not at the rest of you.

You powder your face, put on some perfume, pluck up all your courage and leave the room. Your stomach is clenching with anxiety.

When you enter the living room, you stand by the door and ask him: "Where is my glass of champagne? I hope you haven't finished it."

He comes towards you and throws his arm around you, placing his hand in the small of your back. He mouths a deep "wow", and with a mischievous smirk he turns his free hand towards the edge of the fabric over your cleavage, saying: "May I have a look, ma'am?" You flick his hand with a smile and an indignant "Hey! I'm up here, sir."

"True. I'm sorry. I let myself go with the views, ehehehe." He grabs the two glasses and handles you one. Raising it, he says: "For the beautiful birthday girl, and for the best night I've had for a long time. Cheers!" You raise your glass too, take a sip and say "Thank you, Tom. But… The best? I can hardly believe it." "You should, and I plan to make it even better soon."

He holds your hand and leads you to the sofa. You sit with one leg below you, looking at him. He looks at you while takes another sip of champagne and he says: "So… a doctor, photographer, baker, bookworm… That's pretty impressive, darling. The cake is delicious, and if you are as good a doctor or a photographer as a baker, you'll have a hard time trying to get rid of me." You can't avoid laughing. "Not at all. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm afraid Manu was trying to make me look better than I am."

"We'll see. Where's your camera?" "What? Why?" Because I want you to take some pictures of me." "But, now? Ok, if that's what you want… But I warn you: once I take the camera, it may be hard for you to make me stop." "Oh, don't worry, I'll figure out something." You laugh while you answer him. "I'm sure you'll try. We'll see if you succeed." He's not the only one who can play.

"So, Mr Hiddleston. Did you have something in mind about this photo-shoot? Maybe we could just start with some basic portraits and move on from there. What do you think?" You take your camera, check the memory cards and batteries, and grab an umbrella, a light stand, a couple of flashes and the triggers. You have a great dark grey wall at home, and you plan to use it later. He's following your movements with an amused expression.

"What's so funny?" Click.

"Nothing special. I just like to see you behind that camera." "Oh, I see you don't like my face. That's not very nice of you, sir". His face changes from amused to worried. "Oh, no, no. I did not mean that, really." Click.

You stick your tongue out at him. "I know, but I loved that face." "You, ma'am are dangerous, don't you know?" Click.

"Do you believe so? I think I'm quite innocent, really." He crawled to the other side of the sofa, trying to get to you. Click.

"Innocent? You were not that innocent earlier in the dark room." Come on, give me that mischievous look. "There!" He knows what he's doing. Click.

You go to the shelf and hand him the "Coriolanus". He raises his hands to take it. Click. "Have you smelled it? It's delicious." He opens the book and smells it with his eyes closed. He lets go a deep moan. Click.

"I love its smell, but it's not nearly as delicious as yours." "Are you flirting with me, Mr Hiddleston? This is not very professional." "Of course I'm flirting, love" Oh, there it is, the smoulder. Click.

"And I think I'm behaving like a gentleman not jumping over you right now." "Well, sir, I could say the same, as I'm not made of stone." He extends his hand towards you. You raise yours to touch it. Click.

You hold his hand, and one glass of champagne. You give him a light kiss and lead him to the other empty room. You place a chair in front of the dark wall; put a flash in the floor and the light stand with the umbrella at one side. You prepare a tripod and the remote control, just in case.

"Sit there, please." As you expected his legs are spread away. Click. He leans his head backwards. Click.

You crouch on the floor. "Look at me." He leans forward and his look goes through the lens directly to your cleavage. Click.

You decide to play a little and open your legs a little more than necessary. He can't keep his eyes from your thighs and he bites his lip. Click.

"Isn't it hot in here?" He undoes the last button of his shirt. Click. He starts touching his neck. "Oh, I love that, Tom." Click.

He slides his hand though his chest over the shirt. Click.

You bite your lower lip, whishing it was you who touched his chest. He lowers his hand towards his already hardened cock while he moans. Click.

You lower your camera, and ask him if he wants to go on. "Don't stop, love." He starts thrusting his hips upwards while he unfastens his belt. Click.

Watching him fucking his trousers is making you so wet that you start moaning. He looks at you while he unzips his trousers and grins. Click.

You open the tripod and fix the camera. You fix the lens at its wider point and connect the remote control. He gives you a curious look. Click.

You play with the hem of your dress, raising it while you bring your hand up your thigh. He leans back and starts stroking his cock watching how you go towards him. Click.

Halfway you stop and take off your panties. You spread your legs and hold your panties in your left hand, hanging loose for him to see them. Click.

You reach the chair and put his legs between yours. You lean forward, pulling from the neck of his shirt towards you. "Did you think this little game would make me stop taking photographs?" You nibble his lower lip. Click.

You withdraw from him and tell him to turn the chair around 90 degrees. You straddle him, and feel his huge erection between your legs while you bring your hand to his nape and grab his hair, tilting his head back. "Now it's my turn to play." Click.

You lick his lips and push your tongue between them, while you unbutton his shirt. You slide it down his arms, but you don't take it off completely. The cuffs of the shirt prevent him of moving his arms freely. "Be a good boy and don't move." Click.

You take one of the glasses of champagne and offer him a sip, but you spill it over his neck and chest before it reaches his mouth. You start licking the champagne from his neck and you offer him your tongue. He sucks it eagerly, desperately, drinking from you. Click.

You slide a finger through his chest and lick it while you rock your hips back and forth, rubbing your wetness against his hard cock. Click.

He tries to thrust his cock into you, but you stop him. "Not yet." He groans with frustration and dives his face into your cleavage. Click.

You put your free hand between your legs, and start rubbing your clit while you keep on rocking your hips harder. You slide one finger inside you, and you feel his cock twitching below you. "Please, let me fuck you. I need to be inside you. I can't wait much longer." You keep on fucking yourself. Now you slide two fingers inside you, lean forward and bring your mouth close to his, breathing in his lips, panting, moaning and sinking your fingers deeper inside you, until you feel a wave of pleasure spreading all over your body. Click.

You lean backwards, slide your fingers out, take his cock and slide down it in one thrust. His deep groan and his huge cock inside you make your orgasm linger. You offer him your wet fingers and he sucks them eagerly. He thrusts deeper and you rock your hips following his movements. Click.

You look at him and order him to stop moving. "What?" You stand up slowly, feeling suddenly empty. You help him stand up and you take off his shirt. You surround the chair, bend over it and tell him: "Now, Mr Hiddleston, it's time for you to fuck me hard." Click.

Before you've finished the sentence, he's grabbing your hips. He spreads your legs with his feet, raises your dress to your waist and puts his cock inside you in one deep thrust. You groan at the feeling of being completely filled by him. He grabs your breasts and he says: "I'm afraid I won't be very gentle now, love. You've made me very desperate" "Shut up and fuck me." Click.

He starts pushing deep, and fast. "Fuck, love, you feel so good." You clench your inner walls around his cock, increasing the friction. He brings one finger to your clit, and starts rubbing it. "Oh, gosh, don't stop now. I'm going to come. Oh, fuck." He starts thrusting faster, losing his rhythm, and you know he's close too. Click.

He grabs your wrists with his free hand and starts pounding deeper. He takes his cock almost completely out and thrusts hard again. "Come for me, love." He changes his rhythm now, fucking you even harder, mercilessly, filling the room with your moans, and deep breaths, until he breaths a deep groan and comes inside you. You feel his warm release and his last spasms inside you and you come with his last deep thrust, clenching around his cock, screaming, but unable to emit one more sound. Click.

He collapses over your back, still inside you. He kisses your back and hugs you warmly. "Are you ok?" "I don't know. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to walk for a while". You try to laugh, but you're out of breath. "Oh, fuck, that was…" Click.

He withdraws from you, and gently helps you getting straight. He turns you around, holds you in his arms and gives you a sweet deep kiss that doesn't help steading your legs. "Darling, this has been the best photo-shoot ever. I want a copy of every single photograph." And how are you going to pay for them, Mr Hiddleston?" "Well, I've fucked you until you can barely walk. Maybe it's time for me to make love to you until you lose your mind. Deal?" "Deal." Click.


	5. The birthday Chapter 5 (last)

He grabs your waist and brings you to the sofa. You sit on one side, one leg below you, and he sits in the middle, taking your legs and placing them over his lap. You just look at each other in silence while his fingers play with the skin of your legs and your feet. He holds out his hand to take yours, tangling your fingers together, and brushing your skin with his thumb. There is no need for words, no awkwardness; just the two of you sharing a moment of calm. And even if it scares you (a lot), it feels good. _Don't get used to this, though. It won't last long._ I know, but let me enjoy it while it lasts.

He's touching the scar in your left leg. "How did this happen?" "Oh, a broken ankle. I had a titanium plate and 6 screws for a couple of years. Then I had them removed. Take this advice: never run down stairs in high heels. Least of all when you're getting out of work, because they have to bring you back inside, and it's not funny to have your work mates undressing you and waiting for you to pee on a chamber pot after the surgery. I loved their night visits while I was there, though."

"Hum, undressing you and paying night visits? I'd say I chose the wrong job." "I can assure you it's not a nice view, and don't forget the chamber pot issue." You make a disgusting face. He puts his hand covering your mouth. "Don't you ever say that again. Do you hear me? You are beautiful. And I'll say it again until you believe it." You blush and turn your gaze from him. "Anyway I'm sure that sharing kisses and sex scenes with gorgeous actresses is not a bad job, either. And they even pay you for it." "Maybe it's not bad, but kissing or faking having sex with someone you dislike is not easy, and if you like her, it can be very… embarrassing." He chuckles while you cover your ears, faking being scandalized. "I don't want to know the details, thank you." "Why? Don't you want to know the dirtiest gossips of my job?" You look at him, astonished. "Of course I do, but not when they involve beautiful women, sex and you. Call me weird if you want." "Ok, ok, I get it."

He brings you closer to him, and he changes his position. Now you are lying with your head in his lap. One of his hands is playing with your hair, caressing your head, and he places the other one in your belly, making you ticklish. You can't avoid it, and you start laughing and fighting, trying to escape, but he doesn't allow you to. "Oh, please, stop, I can't…" A loud laugh and a squeal. He's enjoying it, laughing with you. "No way I'm going to stop. This is too much fun, darling." "Oh, please, stop, we're going to wake up the neighbours." Another burst of laughter. "I don't care about the neighbours, love. And we're going to make a lot more noise soon."

He stares at you; his pupils are dilated, his gaze fixed on you. For just one instant, you really believe he likes you, but you don't allow yourself to think about it. Your stomach tightens when memories appear.

He notices something, but he does not say a word. He leans towards you and brushes your face with his fingers, until he arrives to your lips. You trap one of his fingers between your teeth and lick it lightly. You raise your head as he reaches your mouth and places a subtle kiss on your upper lip, light as a whisper, and he lingers there, licking your lips, breathing you, teasing your tongue while he holds your face in his hand.

He moves his fingers down your neck towards your collarbones, counting every freckle and every mole, giving you goose bumps with every touch. He reaches your breasts, and he caresses them through the edge of the fabric. He moves apart the strips of your dress and bra, brushing the skin of your shoulders. You are so relaxed that you cannot move, and you can't help moaning. His cock is growing inside his trousers. He keeps on covering your body with his touch, going from your shoulder to your right arm and your hand. He takes it and brings it to his mouth, taking his time kissing your palm. He goes then to your hip, holding it tight while he searches for your mouth again. You cup his face with your hand and hold his jaw while he moves his hand down towards your thigh, and then up again under your dress. He's touching your inner thigh now and you feel the heat growing inside you again. "Open your legs for me, hun."

He brings his hand towards your pussy, but he doesn't touch it right away. "Hmmm, where are your panties, love?" "I can't remember. Do you want me to go and search for them, sir?" You grin and try to get up, but he stops you right there. "You're not going anywhere, ma'am." He rubs around your clit, making you desperate. You move your hips trying to find the contact, but he tells you: "Not yet" with a smile and a grin.

He gets up as you lie on the sofa, and he places himself over you, his hips between yours, pressing his hard cock against you. He starts kissing you harder, pushing his tongue between your lips. You suck it eagerly, and you bite his lower lip. His hands are moving all over your body, and you hug his waist with your legs. You need him there, not just pushing into you, but inside you. Your need for him is starting to hurt, physically.

_Oh, come on, you don't know anything about him. One guy puts a puppy face and calls you beautiful and you fall like this? I thought you were smarter than this Mary._ Oh, please, leave me alone, will you?

"Come. Let's go to your room." You take his hand and lead him there. You have mixed feelings right now; you want him badly, but you are panicking about being naked. He's just perfect, and you… well, you're not. You try not to think about it, but the pain in your stomach doesn't let you forget.

He looks at you with dark eyes, grabs your waist and, leaning you backwards, starts kissing you again. You stop thinking and start feeling. He tries to take off his clothes, but you stop him. "No. Let me do it. Close your eyes and don't move."

You nuzzle his face with your nose while you start undoing the first button of his shirt, keeping your gaze fixed on him while you slide your finger through his skin to the next button. You go to his neck, breathing there while you undo the third button. Your finger brushes his chest to the fourth one, licking his neck. You blow over the wet trail on his skin and you feel his goose bumps and a sigh. Pulling his shirt to reach the last button, you kiss his chest when you unbutton it completely.

You roll down the sleeves of his shirt, placing your hands in his chest, feeling the smoothness and warmth of his skin, sliding your hands towards his shoulders to let the shirt fall down to the floor.

You move to his back, touching and kissing his freckled shoulders, moving your fingers across his back, and suddenly turning the gentle touch into a scratch. He starts, tilts his head backwards and lets go a gasp and a deep groan. Your hands move around his waist to unfasten his belt from behind, and slide slowly towards his crotch, feeling his belly clenching, and his cock twitching inside his trousers under your slight touch. You realize how empty this room was before he filled it with his moans, and something tickles inside you.

Placing yourself in front of him again, you make him sit on the bed and you crouch at his feet to take off his shoes first, and then the socks. You lift his foot while you massage it and bring it to your lips to lick and bite his toe.

Being between his spread legs, you move your hands towards his knees, and from there you caress his inner thighs until his hard cock is at reach. You hold the jeans by the loose belt, and lean to kiss his tempting mouth. You whisper a "Stand up." He obeys your order, his eyes still closed, panting, and you unbutton the jeans and unfasten the zipper, moving your fingers towards the small of his back and under the trousers, stroking his perfect ass while you slide them down his legs, teasing his hard cock with your lips while you crouch again to take his pants off.

You stand up in front of him, and you whisper in his ear: "There you are. Perfect. You can open your eyes now."

Exhaling a deep moan he says: "No. I don't want to open them, and I don't want you to stop touching me. Ever."

"Well, that's an order I'd be happy to obey, sir." He leans towards you, nuzzling your nose, breathing heavily, and finally kissing you, teasing, moaning inside your lips. "You feel so perfect..." He lingers a little more in your mouth.

"But now, love, I should point out the fact that I'm here, completely naked while you are fully dressed, and that is pretty unfair, don't you think?"

Oh, fuck. Your face must be an open book, because he holds your face and looking into your eyes, he says: "Please, Mary, trust me. Let me do it. I promise you you'll enjoy it, and if you don't, just tell me, and I'll stop. I know you like to have the control, but believe me, I won't do anything you don't want to, ok? Will you trust me?"

The voice inside your head keeps saying no, but you know you want to. You want to trust him. You need to trust him. He feels your struggle, hugs you tight, and says: "it's ok, love, don't worry. Forget about it, ok?" But you say: "No, I want you to do it." "Are you sure?" "Yes, I… I think I won't feel more naked than I am feeling now, so… I'm all yours."

"You can't imagine what those words are doing to me now, love." He raises your chin and puts a soft kiss in your forehead, then in the root of your nose. His kisses are spreading all over your face, tiny little kisses, like a breeze of fresh air that blows the anxiety away. Those kisses grow when they reach the corner of your mouth, they turn hungry, passionate, deep, as if they wanted to fill you with the love you lacked. A lonely tear falls from your eye, and one of his fingers wipes it away from your face, like an unwanted guest. And his tongue wants its part too, brushing your lips, keeping them wet, alive, so alive that they want to fly and meet his lips too, feasting that they're finally together.

Now his fingers join the mouth, and move through your cheeks, exciting every nerve, making your skin tickle and crave for more, sending waves of pleasure through your body to your very core, heating it from the inside.

There goes his tongue now, directly to your ear's lobe, licking it, sucking it, tasting you while his nose is deeply inhaling your scent, sharing your moans and mixing them with sighs and purrs and a little gasp when the teeth give small bites all through your neck. Your skin wants more, and it grows, creating hundreds of goose bumps, each one reclaiming a piece of his skin as its own.

His fingers draw a line from your cheeks to your collarbone, and travel through your shoulder until they catch the left strap of your dress and slide it down your arm, and his tongue covers the road the fingers traced, ending with a tiny bite and a kiss while those same fingers are taking care of the right strap of the dress. He's holding the straps with his fingertips, preventing the dress to fall. His gaze is fixed on you, staring as if he's trying to read your soul inside your eyes. He lets one strap fall loose, and you take the finger that holds the other strap and bring it to your mouth, kissing his fingertip and staring at him while the dress falls to the floor.

There is only a bra remaining between your skins. His big hands are covering your back, the fingertips brushing the soft skin, trying to claim every inch as theirs. When they meet the red straps, they surrender to the experienced fingers, and fall open to the sides. Your lips approach his ear and whisper: "Do it", and you let go a gasp when his fingers slide the straps over your shoulders and the bra falls to the floor. Your body fills with goose bumps, and his body gets so close to you that his skin is trying to melt into yours, warm, protective, covering every inch with his arms, his breast, his legs, his lips.

He's leading you towards the bed, filling every step with his kisses, and caresses. His hands and his body are following your steps, and you both lie in the bed, his weight over your body, his hands barely touching your skin, afraid of hurting it, and his lips owning your mouth, your sighs, your moans. Your tongues are fighting for a place in each other's mouth, breathing each other, panting, devouring each other.

He takes your hands and brings them to the iron bars of the bed header. "Hold the bars and don't move, love." You grab the bars tightly and close your eyes when you feel his mouth on your neck, reclaiming your collarbones, kissing and licking every freckle in your chest, marking them as his, while his fingertips move from your wrists to your chest again, caressing your arms at the same time. Something inside you shivers when he sucks your nipple, biting it lightly and pulling, just to kiss it again, while his hand cups the other breast, and squeezes it, playing with the nipple between his fingers, feeling it harden, craving for more.

Your belly tickles with the touch of his scarce chest hair when he crawls back kissing your flesh, holding your waist with his hands, licking and sucking, and filling your belly with his kisses and warmth, the heat growing inside you when he approaches your pussy. He brushes your inner thighs with his mouth, but he doesn't touch your clit. You move, trying to find his touch, but he looks at you, and you know he's going to make you wait, and suffer, and crave for it, and you let him do, because all your nerves are tickling, sending constant waves of pleasure to your brain, and heat to your cunt, and you can barely focus on anything else.

His fingers stay in your thighs, and his mouth is covering your left leg with kisses, and start playing with your feet. You know he prefers the right foot, because he is lingering there with your freckles, trying to memorize them, touching, licking, and driving you crazy when he unexpectedly gets one finger into your wet pussy, and crawls forward to pay his full attention to your wetness, spreading your legs and brushing his tongue over your entrance and your clit. Your body shivers, and you gasp at the warm touch of his tongue, now drinking your wetness while his thumb circles your clit. You move your hips to increase the friction, but he stops you, putting a hand in your belly. You forget to breathe for a while as a pleasure wave is spreading inside you. You're getting close, but he pulls his finger out and brings it to your mouth. You lick it, tasting you in his skin, and start sucking it filled with frustration. His tongue reclaims a place in your mouth, too. "You are delicious, love." You are panting heavily now. "Please…" You feel his hard cock between your legs, and you rub it against your cunt. He's keeping you near the edge all the time, "Please, Tom… I can't wait any longer…"

He crawls back again towards your pussy, and introduces two fingers at once, while his tongue is sucking and pulling your clit. Suddenly your body starts shaking uncontrollably, and your orgasm hits you hard, leaving you breathless, and exhausted. He places his cock on your entrance and with a deep thrust he fills you completely, lingering your orgasm while he stays there, inside you, still, driving you crazy while he gets out painfully slow, hitting the spot that makes you come again. You don't know if it's a new orgasm or if it's the same one. You don't even care. You're just moaning, and trying to breathe, and he starts pushing his cock in and out, deeper, faster, harder, as if he wanted to become part of your body with every thrust. You hear him breathing heavily, moaning, and you know he's close. You wrap your legs around his waist and push him towards you. He pushes his tongue inside your mouth with every thrust of his cock. He starts moaning and pushing harder until he arches his back and with a deep groan comes inside you. That last thrust brings another wave of pleasure through all your body, and he collapses over you, still inside you, trying to catch his breath from your mouth, nuzzling against your nose, kissing your lips.

"Oh, God. This was… Oh, fuck." He gets out slowly, and leans on his back. You realize your hands are still grabbing the bars of the header, but you can't even move them. He helps you, massaging your arms delicately, until you start feeling them again. You turn towards him, and place your head in his chest and your left arm holding his waist. He is hugging you with his arms, and tangles one leg between yours, making sure you don't go anywhere. You're listening to his heart beats starting to calm down, and you raise your head to kiss him slowly. He stares at you, gives you a broad smile and says: "I love you, Mary." He brushes the hair off your face and kisses your forehead while he holds you a little tighter. You rest your head again on that spot in his chest that seems to be made for your head and whisper: "I love you, Tom."

You open your eyes slowly, and turn on your back feeling great, almost… happy? You search for him, but the bed is empty. You get up and see you're wearing your old sleeping t-shirt. Your stomach is twitching with a bad feeling, and you go to the kitchen. Everything is tidy, no signs of a party, no dirty glasses, plates, food or empty bottles.

You feel a pain in your guts when you realize it was all a dream. No birthday party, no cake, no poems, no kisses, no him… nothing. You fall on your knees and cry. It cannot be a dream, it was perfect. You crawl back to bed trying to catch it again, but the pain is stronger, and you cannot sleep. You stay in bed the whole day, unable to move, crying until your eyes are swollen and dry. A phone rings in the distance. Is it yours? You cannot tell. You don't even care. Suddenly you feel someone is near you. Oh, your sister.

"What are you doing here?" "I was worried about you. I've been calling you since yesterday and you did not answer the phone. I thought you may have a migraine again and came to check, but this is not a migraine. What's happening?"

You just start crying. You cannot tell her that a dream has broken you, that you don't want to get out of your bed again, you don't want to work, to talk, to eat. You just want to stay in bed trying to catch the dream again, but it's gone.

She knows you won't tell her anything, so she hugs you tight until you stop crying. She pushes you into the shower while she prepares something to eat. What day is it? You don't even know.

You start feeling a little better after the tea and the toasts, though the emptiness inside remains. You manage to work, and go on with your life (kind of), but something is missing inside, and you want it back.

You receive a whatsapp from Manu. "Prepare a bag with some basic clothes, and comfortable shoes. We're spending the weekend out of the city. We'll pick you up at ten, and "no" is not an option."

You wait for them in the corner of your street, as always. You enter the car and ask them: "Where are we going?" "It's a surprise."

They are driving to the airport. What the hell?

Manu hands you your ticket. "Rome? Why?" "Because it was cheap, because we were worried for you and because we thought it would do you good. And we miss you."

You arrive at Rome's airport. It seems every flight has arrived at the same moment, because it's overcrowded, and you can't breathe. You're searching for the nearest exit when you hear someone calling your name.

"Mary?" You look back to see who's calling you. You froze, open mouthed, your stomach clenching with something like pain. There was Tom Hiddleston, calling your name.

"Yes? How do you know me?"

He stood there for a moment, wordless, ruffling his hair, and then he said: "Oh, you'll think this is crazy, but... I've had a dream about you."


End file.
